Blizzard_(2)
She was so young. So innocent. So naïve. So trusting. And so sound asleep in the bed. The bed, not mine, not hers, not ours. I sat beside the soft lined form under the thick blanket and wondered how our lives had come to this nexus. Her lying on her side, sleeping the slumber of the blameless, unburdened by shame, guilt or the knowledge of life that comes with adulthood. Comfortable in her safety, eyelids fluttering over dreamscapes, lips upturned in a slight smile. Me? Sitting in a chair watching her. I’m not so young, so innocent or naïve and I couldn’t sleep. Not on or in that bed, the only one available to us. I tried, I asked, I almost pleaded for separate rooms, then separate beds but the disheveled unkempt clerk of the …